upon this he (lord Antrim) seeing the duke of Ormond set against him, came over to London, and was lodged at Somerset House: and it was believed, that having no children he settled his estate on Jermyn then earl of St. Albans *: but before he came away he had made a prior settlement in favour of his brother. He petitioned the king to order a committee of council to examine the warrants that he had acted upon. The earl of Clarendon was for rejecting the petition, as containing a high indignity to the memory of king Charles the first: and said plainly at council table, that if any person had pretended to affirm such a thing while they were at Oxford he would either have been severely punished for it, or the king would soon have had a very thin court. But it seemed just to see what he had to say for himself: so a committee was named, of which the earl of Northumberland was the chief. He produced to them some of the king's letters: but they did not come up to a full proof. In one of them the king wrote, that he had not then leisure, but referred himself to the queen's letter; and said, that was all one as if he had written himself. Upon this foundation he produced a series of letters written by himself to the queen, in which he gave her an account of every one of these particulars that were laid to his charge, and showed the grounds he went on, and desired her directions to every one of these: he had answers ordering him to do as he did. This the queen-mother espoused with great zeal; and said, she was bound in honour to save him. I saw a great deal of that management, for I was then at court. But it was generally believed, that this train of letters was made up at that time in a collusion between the queen and him so a report was prepared to be signed by the committee, setting forth that he had so fully justified himself in every thing that had been objected to him, that he ought not to be excepted out of the indemnity. This was brought first to the earl of Northumberland to be signed by him; but he refused it, and said, he was sorry he had produced such warrants, but he did not think they could serve his turn; for he did not believe any warrant from the king or queen could justify so much bloodshed, in so many black instances as were laid against him. Upon his refusal the rest of the committee did not think fit to sign the report; so it was let fall: and the king was prevailed on to write to the duke of Ormond, telling him, that he had so vindicated himself, that he must endeavour to get him to be included in the indemnity. That was done; and was no small reproach to the king, that did thus sacrifice his father's honour to his mother's importunity. Upon this the earl of Essex told me, that he had taken all the pains he could to inquire into the original of the Irish massacre, but could never see any reason to believe the king had any accession to it. He did indeed believe that the queen harkened to the propositions made by the Irish, who undertook to take the government of Ireland into their hands, which they thought th could easily perform: and then, they said, they would assist the king to subdue the hot spirits at Westminster. With this the plot of the insurrection began; and all the Irish believed the queen encouraged it. But in the first design there was no thought of a massacre: that came in head as they were laying the methods of executing it: so, as those were managed by the priests, they were the chief men that set on the Irish to all the blood and cruelty that followed.

I know nothing in particular of the sequel of the war, nor of all the confusions that happened till the murder of king Charles the first: only one passage I had from lieutenantgeneral Drummond, afterwards lord Strathallan. He served on the king's side; but he had many friends among those who were for the covenant; so the king's affairs being now ruined, he was recommended to Cromwell, being then in a treaty with the Spanish Ambassador, who was negotiating for some regiments to be levied and sent over from Scotland to Flanders: he happened to be with Cromwell when the commissioners sent from Scotland to protest against the putting the king to death came to argue the matter with him. Cromwell bade Drumond stay and hear their conference, which he did. They began in a heavy languid style to lay indeed great load on the king: but they still insisted on that clause in the covenant, by which they swore they would be faithful in the preservation of his Majesty's person. With this they showed upon what terms Scotland, as well as the two houses, had engaged in the war; and what solemn declarations of their zeal and duty to the king they

If as was then generally believed, the earl of St. Albans was married to the queen dowager, this was a powerful mode to secure her interest in his favour, and seems to have succeeded.

all along published; which would now appear, to the scandal and reproach of the christian name, to have been false pretences, if, when the king was in their power, they should proceed to extremities. Upon this Cromwell entered into a long discourse of the nature of the regal power, according to the principles of Mariana and Buchanan: he thought a breach of trust in a king ought to be punished more than any other crime whatsoever: he said as to their covenant, they swore to the preservation of the king's person in defence of the true religion if then it appeared that the settlement of the true religion was obstructed by the king, so that they could not come at it but by putting him out of the way, then their oath could not bind them to the preserving him any longer. He said also, their covenant did bind them to bring all malignants, incendiaries, and enemies to the cause, to condign punishment: and was not this to be executed impartially? What were all those on whom public justice had been done, especially those who suffered for joining with Montrose, but small offenders, acting by commission from the king, who was, therefore, the principal, and so the most guilty? Drummond said, Cromwell had plainly the better of them at their own weapon, and upon their own principles. At this time presbytery was at its height in Scotland.

In summer, 1648, when the parliament declared they would engage to rescue the king from his imprisonment, and the parliament of England from the force it was put under by the army, the nobility went into the design, all except six or eight. The king had signed an engagement to make good his offers to the nation of the northern counties, with the other conditions formerly mentioned: and particular favours were promised to every one that concurred in it. The marquis of Argyle gave it out that the Hamiltons, let them pretend what they would, had no sincere intentions to their cause, but had engaged to serve the king on his own terms: he filled the preachers with such jealousies of this, that though all the demands that they made for the security of their cause, and in declaring the grounds of the war, were complied with, yet they could not be satisfied, but still said the Hamiltons were in a confederacy with the malignants in England, and did not intend to stand to what they promised. The General Assembly declared against it, as an unlawful confederacy with the enemies of God, and called it the Unlawful Engagement, which came to be the name commonly given to it in all their pulpits. They every where preached against it, and opposed the levies all they could by solemn denunciations of the wrath and curse of God on all concerned in them. This was a strange piece of opposition to the state, little inferior to what was pretended to and put in practice by the church of Rome.

The south-west counties of Scotland have seldom corn enough to serve them round the year: and the northern parts producing more than they need, those in the west come in the summer to buy at Leith the stores that come from the north and from a word, whiggam, used in driving their horses, all that drove were called the whiggamors, and shorter the whiggs. Now in that year, after the news came down of duke Hamilton's defeat, the ministers animated their people to rise, and march to Edinburgh: and they came up marching on the head of their parishes, with an unheard-of fury, praying and preaching all the way as they came. The marquis of Argyle and his party came and headed them, they being about 6000. This was called the whiggamors' inroad and ever after that all that opposed the court came in contempt to be called whiggs: and from Scotland the word was brought into England, where it is now one of our unhappy terms of distinction.

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The committee of their estates, with the force they had in their hands, could easily have dissipated this undisciplined herd. But they knowing their own weakness sent to Cromwell desiring his assistance. Upon that the committee saw they could not stand before him so they came to a treaty and delivered up the government to this new body. Upon their assuming it, they declared all who had served or assisted in the engagement incapable of any employment, till they had first satisfied the kirk of the truth of their repentance, and made public professions of it. All churches were upon that full of mock penitents, some making their acknowledgments all in tears, to gain more credit with the new party. The earl of Lowdun, that was chancellor, had entered into solemn promises both to the king and the Hamiltons: but when he came to Scotland, his wife, a high covenanter, and an heiress, by whom he had both honour and estate, threatened him, if he went on that way, with a process of adultery, in which she could have had very copious proofs: he durst not stand this,

and so compounded the matter, by the deserting his friends, and turning over to the other side of which he made public profession in the church of Edinburgh with many tears, confessing his weakness in yielding to the temptation of what had a show of honour and loyalty, for which he expressed a hearty sorrow. Those that came in early with great shows of compunction got easier off: but those who stood out long found it a harder matter to make their peace. Cromwell came down to Scotland, and saw the new modes fully settled.

During his absence from the scene, the treaty of the Isle of Wight was set on foot by the parliament, who seeing the army at such a distance took this occasion of treating with the king. Sir Henry Vane, and others who were for a change of government, had no mind to treat any more. But both city and country were so desirous of a personal treaty, that it could not be resisted. Vane, Pierpoint, and some others, went to the treaty on purpose to delay matters till the army could be brought up to London. All that wished well to the treaty prayed the king at their first coming to despatch the business with all possible haste, and to grant the first day all that he could bring himself to grant on the last. Hollis and Grimstone told me, they had both on their knees begged this of the king. They said they knew Vane would study to draw out the treaty to a great length: and he, who declared for an unbounded liberty of conscience, would try to gain on the king's party by the offer of a toleration for the common prayer and the episcopal clergy. His design in that was to gain time, till Cromwell should settle Scotland and the north. But they said, if the king would frankly come in without the formality of papers backward and forward, and send them back next day with the concessions that were absolutely necessary, they did not doubt but he should in a very few days be brought up with honour, freedom, and safety to the parliament, and that matters should be brought to a present settlement. Titus, who was then much trusted by the king, and employed in a negotiation with the presbyterian party, told me he had spoken often and earnestly to him in the same strain: but the king could not come to a resolution: and he still fancied, that in the struggle between the House of Commons and the army, both saw they needed him so much to give them the superior strength, that he imagined by balancing them he would bring both sides into a greater dependence on himself, and force them to better terms. In this Vane flattered the episcopal party to the king's ruin as well as their own. But they still hated the presbyterians as the first authors of the war ; and seemed unwilling to think well of them, or to be beholden to them. Thus the treaty went on with a fatal slowness: and by the time it was come to some maturity, Cromwell came up with his army and overturned all.

Upon this I will set down what sir Harbotle Grimstone told me a few weeks before his death. Whether it was done at this time, or the year before, I cannot tell: I rather believe the latter. When the House of Commons and the army were a quarrelling, at a meeting of the officers, it was proposed to purge the army better, that they might know whom to depend on. Cromwell upon that said, he was sure of the army; but there was another body that had more need of purging, naming the House of Commons, and he thought the army only could do that. Two officers that were present brought an account of this to Grimston, who carried them with him to the lobby of the House of Commons, they being resolved to justify it to the House. There was another debate then on foot but Grimstone diverted it, and said, he had a matter of privilege of the highest sort to lay before them: it was about the being and freedom of the house. So he charged Cromwell with the design of putting a force on the house: he had his witnesses at the door, and desired they might be examined: they were brought to the bar, and justified all that they had said to him, and gave a full relation of all that had passed at their meetings. When they withdrew, Cromwell fell down on his knees, and made a solemn prayer to God, attesting his innocence, and his zeal for the service of the house: he submitted himself to the providence of God, who it seems thought fit to exercise him with calumny and slander, but he committed his cause to him: this he did with great vehemence, and with many tears. After this strange and bold preamble, he made so long a speech, justifying both himself and the rest of the officers, except a few that seemed inclined to return back to Egypt, that he wearied out the house, and wrought so much on his party, that what the witnesses had said was so little believed, that, had it been moved, Grimstone thought that both he and they would have been sent to the Tower. But

whether their guilt made them modest, or that they had no mind to have the matter much talked of, they let it fall: and there was no strength on the other side to carry it farther. To complete the scene, as soon as ever Cromwell got out of the house, he resolved to trust himself no more among them; but went to the army, and in a few days he brought them up, and forced a great many from the house.

I had much discourse on this head with one who knew Cromwell well and all that set of men; and asked him how they could excuse all the prevarications, and other ill things, of which they were visibly guilty in the conduct of their affairs. He told me, they believed there were great occasions in which some men were called to great services, and in the doing of which they were excused from the common rules of morality: such were the practices of Ehud and Jael, Samson and David: and by this they fancied they had a privilege from observing the standing rules. It is very obvious how far this principle may be carried, and how all justice and mercy may be laid aside on this pretence by every bold enthusiast. Ludlow, in his memoirs, justifies this force put on the parliament, as much as he condemns the force that Cromwell and the army afterwards put on the house: and he seems to lay this down for a maxim, that the military power ought always to be subject to the civil: and yet, without any sort of resentment for what he had done, he owns the share he had in the force put on the parliament at this time. The plain reconciling of this is, that he thought when the army judged the parliament was in the wrong they might use violence, but not otherwise : which gives the army a superior authority, and an inspection into the proceedings of the parliament. This shows how impossible it is to set up a commonwealth in England: for that cannot be brought about but by a military force: and they will ever keep the parliament in subjection to them, and so keep up their own authority.

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I will leave all that relates to the king's trial and death to common historians, knowing nothing that is particular of that great transaction, which was certainly one of the most amazing scenes in history. Ireton was the person that drove it on: for Cromwell was all the while in some suspense about it. Ireton had the principles and the temper of a Cassius in him he stuck at nothing that might have turned England to a commonwealth: and he found out Cook and Bradshaw, two bold lawyers, as proper instruments for managing it. Fairfax was much distracted in his mind, and changed purposes often every day. The presbyterians and the body of the city were much against it, and were every where fasting and praying for the king's preservation. There were not above 8000 of the army about the town: but these were selected out of the whole army, as the most engaged in enthusiasm: and they were kept at prayer in their way almost day and night, except when they were upon duty: so that they were wrought up to a pitch of fury, that struck a terror into all people. On the other hand the king's party was without spirit: and, as many of themselves have said to me, they could never believe his death was really intended, till it was too late. They thought all was a pageantry to strike a terror, and to force the king to such concessions as they had a mind to extort from him.

The king himself showed a calm and a composed firmness, which amazed all people; and that so much the more because it was not natural to him. It was imputed to a very extraordinary measure of supernatural assistance. Bishop Juxon did the duty of his function honestly, but with a dry coldness that could not raise the king's thoughts: so that it was owing wholly to somewhat within himself that he went through so many indignities with so much true greatness, without disorder or any sort of affectation *. Thus he died greater than he had lived; and

Although Dr. Juxon's fervour in prayer and spiritual consolation was not sufficiently animated to please our author, yet his temperament, his manner, and his character, collectively rendered him, above all other ecclesiastics, the man most desired as his attendant by the royal sufferer. Juxon was a man of inflexible integrity, and Charles told sir Philip Warwick, "I never got his opinion freely in my life; but when I had it, I was ever the better for it." (Warwick's Memoirs, 96.) When the others of the privy councillors basely advised the king to sign the warrant for the earl of Strafford's execution, or pusillanimously declined advising at all, Juxon alone dared to act right, and told his majesty unreservedly, "if he was not satisfied in

his conscience, he ought not to do it, whatsoever happened." (Whitelock's Memoriais, 44.) Charles had bitterly felt the pangs of useless regret that he had not adopted this advice. Loving the man for his unimpeached virtues, the king requested that he might attend him in the final preparation for death. When this request was granted, his majesty declared it was "no small refreshing to his spirit." The most simple and authentic detail of the bishop's intercourse with the king during the last few days of his life, and of all the events of that deeply-interesting period, is to be read in Wood's Athena Oxoniensis, being the narrative given by Mr. Thomas Herbert, his majesty's personal attendant at the time. Dr. Burnet, from the passage in

showed, that which has often been observed of the whole race of the Stuarts, that they bore misfortunes better than prosperity. His reign both in peace and war was a continual series of errors: so that it does not appear that he had a true judgment of things. He was out of measure set on following his humour, but unreasonably feeble to those whom he trusted, chiefly to the queen. He had too high a notion of the regal power, and thought that every opposition to it was rebellion. He minded little things too much, and was more concerned in the drawing of a paper than in fighting a battle. He had a firm aversion to popery, but was much inclined to a middle way between protestants and papists, by which he lost the one without gaining the other. His engaging the duke of Rohan in the war of Rochelle, and then assisting him so poorly, and forsaking him at last, gave an ill character of him to all the protestants abroad. The earl of Lauderdale told me the duke of Rohan was at Geneva, where he himself was, when he received a very long letter, or rather a little book, from father, which gave him a copious account of the beginning of the troubles in Scotland. He translated it to the duke of Rohan, who expressed a vehement indignation at the court of England for their usage of him: of which this was the account he then gave.

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The duke of Buckingham had a secret conversation with the queen of France, of which the queen-mother was very jealous, and possessed the king with such a sense of it that he was ordered immediately to leave the court. Upon his return to England under this affront, he possessed the king with such a hatred of that court, that the queen was ill-used on her coming over, and all her servants were sent back *. He told him also that the protestants were so ill-used, and so strong, that if he would protect them they would involve that kingdom in new wars; which he represented as so glorious a beginning of his reign, that the king without weighing the consequence of it sent one to treat with the duke of Rohan about it. Great assistance was promised by sea: so a war was resolved on, in which the share that our court had is well enough known. But the infamous part was, that Richlieu got the king of France to make his queen write an obliging letter to the duke of Buckingham, assuring him that, if he would let Rochelle fall without assisting it, he should have leave to come over, and should settle the whole matter of the religion according to their edicts. This was a strange proceeding: but cardinal Richlieu could turn that weak king as he pleased. Upon this the duke made that shameful campaign of the Isle of Rhe. But finding next winter that he was not to be suffered to go over into France, and that he was abused into a false hope, he resolved to have followed that matter with more vigour, when he was stabbed by Felton.

the text above, and from another slight notice of Juxon, evidently did not admire him, although he says nothing to his discredit. All other authorities speak decidedly in his praise, and Mr. Grainger only epitomises their commenda tions when he says "The mildness of his temper, the gentleness of his manners, and the integrity of his life, gained him universal esteem. Even the haters of prelacy could never hate Juxon." He died in 1663, aged 81. Sir Philip Warwick, his contemporary and acquaintance, says," he was of a meek spirit, and of a solid, steady judgment. Having addicted his first studies to the civil law (from which he took his title of doctor, though he afterwards took on him the ministry), this fitted him the more for secular and state affairs. His temper and prudence wrought so upon all men, that although he had the two most invidious characters, both in the ecclesiastical and civil state-being a bishop and lord treasurer-yet neither drew envy on him, though the humour of the times tended to brand all great men in employment."(Warwick's Memoirs, 93-96.)

It is certainly not the fact that the queen was ill used upon her first coming over, for she was attended to England by Buckingham, with all the customary magnificence and ceremony. Charles himself met her at Canterbury. As to the reason of the queen's female attendants being dismissed, an event that did not occur until they had been here twelve months, it probably was founded upon state considerations. This country was then on the eve of war with France, and it might very justly be

considered impolitic to allow priests and others attached to the interests of that country to be in such intimate intercourse with our court. The misbehaviour of some of them was the plea for dismissing them. Sir Hamond L'Estrange, who was a contemporary, says, on the evening of the 1st of July, 1626, the king, attended by the duke of Buckingham, the earls of Holland and Carlisle, and other officers, came to Somerset House, whither all the queen's servants had been summoned previously. His majesty thus addressed them :-" Ladies and gentlemen, I am driven to that extremity, that I am come to acquaint you I very earnestly desire your return to France. True it is the deportment of some of you hath been very inoffensive to me; but others again have so dallied with my patience, and so highly affronted me, that I cannot, I will not longer endure it." The bishop of Mende and Madame St. George inquired whether they were the offenders; but the king departed without any other reply than "I name none." The queen was very importunate to have them permitted to stay; but this was not permitted, and, after having more than their salaries paid to them, they were all sent back to France. L'Estrange declares that the queen's confessor having made her walk bare-foot from Somerset House to St. James's, and Madame St. George having caused the queen to be jealous of his majesty, were the causes of this dismissal. The continuer of Baker's Chronicle repeats this story, but it is grossly improbable.—L'Estrange's Reign of Charles I., 58.